


Take The Lead

by starryskeyess



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Divergent, Cunnilingus, Dancing, Dirty Talk, F/F, Fem Keith, Fem Shiro, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hair-pulling, Post S7, SHEITH - Freeform, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, background allurance, femsheith, just a smiiiidge, keith with more galra features, s8 didn't happen, tiddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26554489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryskeyess/pseuds/starryskeyess
Summary: A year after the end of the war, Allura invites all of the Paladins to New Altea to celebrate the planet's first birthday.  There's just one small problem.'“Why not? Afraid you’ll have to dance with a handsy Unilu?” Keith asked.  She fought to keep a straight face, but Shiro could hear the laugh in her voice anyway.Shiro shook her head, and took advantage of the momentary ease of Keith’s hold to flip them, legs tangled together.  Keith wiggled beneath her, whipcord muscles bunching in Shiro’s hold.Shiro squeezed a tight grip into Keith’s wrists, slamming them back down onto the mat.  Her words popped out of her with the impact, “I don’t know how to dance!”Shiro’s face was already warmed with exertion, but embarrassment heated it further.  What a ridiculous thing to shout in your best friends face.“I-,” Shiro began, before her world was spun upside down and she found herself flat on her back, Keith’s thighs pinning her to the rubbery floor.Keith’s hands trapped hers firmly, slender fingers wrapped around her wrists like steel.“I can teach you.”'
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 74
Collections: Sheith Prompt Party 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was for Prompt number 14: Femsheith; Shiro needs to learn to dance for some event, and Keith offers to teach her how
> 
> Huge thank you to Robin, Sarah and Sharki for coordinating this event!! Rockstars, all three of them <3

The click of Shiro’s dress shoes echoed through the hall, and with each step her anxiety grew. She pulled on the hem of her Admiral’s jacket, tugging and shifting it into place. She was glad, as she often was these days, that she had convinced Allura that she needed a replacement Altean arm that matched her flesh and bone one. The white metal was lightweight and sleek, and with it she felt balanced, whole, in a way she never did with the Galran arm. The white material even matched Shiro’s hair now, though the blue glow that lined it was unique and unlike anything her body could recreate.

In the last year since the war ended, very few of her meetings in this office have gone how she has hoped. Every request for trips back into space, for actual missions, for _anything_ other than being the Garrison’s pretty figurehead have been denied without second thoughts. One more deep breath, then Shiro straightened her shoulders and knocked smartly on the door. Iverson’s voice beckoned her inside, and Shiro tried to relax even a fraction as she sat before his desk.

Iverson’s smile across his desk was tight, but it was rarely anything else. Like Shiro, he’d been relegated to a desk job, and she could tell he itched for action just as much as she did. But peace looked good on him, and he seemed healthy. Bored, but healthy. Shiro supposed that might be the best thing someone like them can expect in the aftermath of an intergalactic war.

“Thanks for coming, Shirogane,” Iverson said.

“Of course,” Shiro answered, like she had a choice.

“We have an assignment for you. Actually, for you and the entire ATLAS crew. Plus a few extra hands, I’d think,” Iverson said, and Shiro frowned. _Extra hands?_

“Sir?” she asked.

“You have a mission off-world, Shiro,” he answered, and Shiro blinked at him slowly. Off world? She’d been asking, _begging_ , to go off-world for a year, and nothing.

“Now, don’t get too excited. You’ll be acting as Earth’s representative, all diplomacy, no action. You got that?” Iverson asked.

“I think I’ve had enough ‘action’ for a lifetime, sir,” Shiro said, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Sure, she was happy the war’s over. She would carry the scars, physical and otherwise, of fighting the Galra for the rest of her life. But she never imagined her life post-war would be full of… nothing. There was still work to be done, on Earth and on hundreds of other planets, and Shiro just wanted to _help._ Instead she was chained to a desk, only leaving the Garrison when they needed somebody to look fancy and smile for the people. 

Iverson said, “Uh-huh,” like he couldn’t believe her any less. “You and the ATLAS crew depart in two days, use this time to prepare. Get me a list of your requested supplies by noon tomorrow.”

“Sir, where are we going?” Shiro asked.

A genuine smile spread across Iverson’s face as he answered, “New Altea.”

-

Preparations for the journey started almost immediately. Shiro had a moment of guilt when the ATLAS crew ignored her reminders of the late hour, or that they could start in the morning. They buzzed around with excitement, smiles wider than she had seen them in months. After an hour of directing the flow of work, Shiro made her way back to her room on ATLAS. The Garrison had offered her housing, but accepting it had felt too much like giving up, like admitting that she was done with adventure, with everything that’s _out there,_ and she wasn’t ready for that. 

Teeth brushed and pajamas acquired, Shiro settled into her bed. ATLAS’ presence wrapped around her like a soft, barely-there hug, and her bed was the perfect combination of firm and soft, but she was too keyed up to sleep. She grabbed her PADD from the bedside table, and without thinking, brought up Keith’s contact.

Warmth bloomed in her chest at the thought of her best friend. Keith had been off-world for a while now, aiding in relief efforts and freeing more distant planets from occupation with the Blades. Their schedules didn’t align often, every call was precious. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Shiro punched the call button and waited while it rang, admiring the picture of Keith that pulsed as on the screen. Shiro took the picture months ago, during Keith’s last visit to Earth. They had grabbed a pair of hoverbikes, racing through the canyon to _their spot_ , and had talked well into the night, until stars glittered overhead. Keith had been telling a particularly gripping story about Romelle’s first mission, in which she had taken a dive into some foul-smelling slime, but managed to kick ass anyway. 

Keith’s smile had been so wide, her laugh joyful and light in a way Shiro rarely heard it during the war. The sun was setting and the golden light gave Keith a soft glow, and Shiro hadn’t even thought about it as she snapped a picture of Keith. 

Keith’s face filled the screen when she answered, and Shiro loved this sight just as much. She was wearing what looked like pajamas as well, hair sticking out in every direction. She just woke up, and Shiro felt a twinge of guilt at the sight.

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith said, voice sleep-soft and warm.

“Hey, I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” Shiro asked.

“A little bit, but I had to be up in a few minutes anyway,” Keith answered, and her smile was just for Shiro.

“If you say so.”

Keith said, “I do,” and stuck her tongue out at Shiro playfully, jolting a laugh out of Shiro in spite of herself. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Keith asked knowingly. 

“Kind of? I actually had some news,” Shiro said.

“Oh?”

“We are leaving Earth,” Shiro blurted out, unable to fight her smile. “Iverson just told me--ATLAS is headed to New Altea in three days.”

Keith’s eyes widened, excitement quickly overcoming the sleep she was still shrugging off. 

“Jesus, finally! Did they tell you why?” Keith asked.

“Apparently my presence has been requested, as a representative of Earth. Iverson was really cagey with the details, probably because he didn’t want to tell me about the hours and hours of meetings I’ll be in while I’m there,” Shiro rolled her eyes. 

Keith laughed, a soft, intimate thing. “Sounds like Iverson. Still, you’re excited though, yeah?” Keith asked.

Shiro nodded. “Definitely!” she said. She thought for a moment, then added, “It sounds like we will be there for at least a movement, so there might be some downtime after all of the work duties are taken care of.”

Keith’s smile was feline. “Oh?” she asked.

“Any chance you’ll be in the area, or are you too busy doing _Senior Blade_ things?” Shiro teased. Keith’s recent promotion to a Senior Blade, basically Kolivan’s right hand woman, made her blush every time Shiro brought it up. Which means Shiro brought it up all the time, just to watch her best friend’s cheeks flush a beautiful shade of lavender. Many of Keith’s more Galra traits hadn’t shown themselves until a few months after the war: soft lavender blushing, sharpened canines, and apparently purple markings across her torso and hips--not that Shiro had seen them. Keith had been shocked by them, indignant that her body had changed without her permission, but Shiro knew Keith wasn’t as angry as she pretended to be.

“Shut up.” Keith said, but Shiro could see the sweep of purple along her cheekbones in the dim light anyway. “I honestly don’t know, Shiro. The mission we are on now could wrap up today, or it might be another phoeb,” Keith sounded genuinely grumpy about the possibility.

“That bad, huh?”

“More frustrating than dangerous. It’s a diplomatic mission, but the Ekill are so stubborn! It’s like they will only take help if it’s exactly to their specifications. I miss when my Blades missions were just… I don’t know, stabbing things.” Keith said, and she sounded so genuine that Shiro couldn't help but laugh.

“That’s my girl,” Shiro got out between laughs, and it took her a moment to realize what she said, and be properly embarrassed about it.

“Yeah,” Keith said softly, “Anyway, they should leave the politics to popsicles like you, Shiro. You’re much better at this stuff than I am,” Keith said.

“Popsicles?”

“Yeah, people with stick up their--”

“Keith!” Shiro yelled, and they both dissolved into laughter. It was easy, like breathing, and Shiro felt that constant weight that sat on her chest lift just a little. It always felt lighter with Keith, like the other woman somehow reached out and pulled her burdens off of Shiro.

“Disgusting insult aside,” Shiro continued, and Keith stuck her tongue out again, “You know you are good at more than just stabbing things. Kolivan made you a Senior Blade for a reason, Keith. You’re a great leader.”

“Thanks, Shiro. You’re a pretty good fighter, even with the sti--”

“Don’t,” Shiro warned. Keith just smiled her sharp smile.

They talked for a few more minutes before Keith had to leave to get ready for her day, and Shiro knew she should try to sleep. She expected to toss and turn for a couple more hours, but sleep found her quickly.

-

The preparations were quick. Iverson, true to his word, provided everything Shiro’s team asked for and more, and ATLAS’ storage rooms were packed to the brim. The trip to New Altea was uneventful. It would almost be boring if Shiro didn’t feel like she was vibrating out of her skin with excitement. Not only at _finally_ doing what ATLAS was meant to do, but at visiting New Altea, and Allura.

Shiro missed Allura. She was the only person Shiro hadn’t seen since shortly after the war ended. Allura had announced, in the quietly regal way she always did, that she was leaving with the Alteans, to find a new planet to call home and rebuild.

She had promised to keep in touch, and for the most part she’d kept her promise. She and Shiro found time for video calls maybe once a month, but they always made it count. One of the things Shiro appreciated most about Allura was how present she was, truly focused on the object of her attention for the time that they had her. She got frustrated with Shiro, with her tendency to let things go instead of fighting for what she wants, but she usually respected Shiro’s wishes anyway.

On the second quintant of the trip, Shiro couldn’t actually find anything she needed to do. ATLAS was basically on auto-pilot, and the bridge crew shooed her away when she offered to just sit there. She wandered a little aimlessly, uncomfortable, still, with not being _needed._

It had been like that a lot since the war ended. Peace had been the thing Shiro had always been fighting for, working towards. But when peace came, she wasn’t needed. Sometimes it felt like war was actually the thing she was suited for. Violence and grief and death were all she had known since the day the Galra found her. 

Like always, she found herself on the observation deck, legs dangling off the edge of the walkway, the openness of space before her. Splashes of color and sparkling light swirled through the blackness, captivating and immeasurable. Shiro had been all over the universe, had seen planets destroyed and restored, seen alternate realities and prevented the impending destruction of her own. Yet somehow, the glittering expanse in front of her still took her breath away.

She didn’t notice Matt’s soft footfalls as he entered the room, didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until he settled in next to her, thigh bumping against her own gently.

She tore her eyes away from the window long enough to flash him a quick smile, which he returned. His hair fell in chaotic waves down past his shoulders--it was getting longer than hers now. It suited him, as did the confidence he now wore, wrapped around him like a cape.

“So, Iverson was pretty stingy with the details about this mission, huh?” Matt asked, and laughed at the roll of Shiro’s eyes.

“When is he ever _not_ stingy, about anything?” Shiro replied, and she couldn’t help the bitterness that crept into her tone. Her opinion on Iverson as a person had shifted during the attack on Earth, but he was still rigid and hard to like at times.

“Do you know if _anyone else_ is going to be around on New Altea?” Matt asked. 

Shiro shrugged, folding her arms over the railing and resting her chin on them. She should be _happy_ , yet here she is, stewing in her feelings and basking in the void of space.

“Ah,” Matt said, “No Keith, then?”

Shiro shook her head silently. She didn’t know what to say. Of course she was excited about this trip, but learning that Keith wouldn’t be there hurt more than she realized it would. It seemed that Keith was so inextricably linked to Shiro’s thoughts of adventure, of exploring the universe, she hadn’t stopped to consider that she might do any of those things without her best friend. Hadn’t realized how _empty_ it would feel.

Matt squeezed her shoulder once, briefly, before getting back to his feet and making a quiet departure. Shiro stayed right where she was until her eyelids grew heavy.

-

The final hours of the trip were a test of Shiro’s patience. She made her rounds on ATLAS, making light conversation with the crew as she moved. They were a well-oiled machine, everyone at their stations, acting with surety. Shiro told herself she was doing a little old fashioned quality assurance, but really she was just keeping busy.

She hadn’t seen Allura in a year. Of all of the paladins, she was in fact _the only_ one who hadn’t come back to Earth, even for a visit, and Shiro never left. There were times over the last year that it felt like a fever dream--in the haziness between sleep and awake she could imagine she had never left, that she had given up on her dreams years ago and lived out her mediocre life on Earth.

Reality always found her before too long--she had gone to space. She lost her arm, lost faith in a lot of things, even lost her life. Her dreams of adventure, of touching the stars, had all come true, alongside equally matched nightmares. 

And Keith, Keith had saved her. Over and over again, Death had come for Shiro and Keith had beaten it back with nothing but a glowing blade and her own force of will. Shiro’s heart flip flopped in her chest at the thought of her best friend. And then dropped, remembering that she wouldn’t get to see her during this trip.

Shiro took her place on the bridge as it neared time for landing, connecting to ATLAS and bringing them down gently. Shiro almost wished she was in a position to admire New Altea as ATLAS glided gently to the surface, tucking into a hangar just outside the main castle. 

From what Shiro _could_ see, it was lovely. Vibrant with color and teeming with life. Cool blues and bright pink wove through the city, adorning streetlights and bridges, all very Allura. 

After securing ATLAS’ landing, Shiro led the crew to the bay doors, tugging her uniform into place. The anxiety lacing her movements had crept up on her, surprising in its force. Shiro took a deep, grounding breath, before asking ATLAS to open the doors.

Buttery sunlight warmed their faces, blinding Shiro temporarily. Once her eyes adjusted, she saw a small group of Alteans gathered not far from the ship. Seeing no sign of Allura’s thick white hair from a distance, Shiro’s heart sunk. Of course it made sense that Allura would be too busy to greet Shiro personally; she probably sent representatives in her stead.

Shiro made her way down the steps to the greeting party, smiling warmly. She bowed deeply at the group, introducing herself and her crew. 

The closest Altean, an aging man with a bright shock of yellow hair, smiled back at them.

“Welcome, Admiral Shirogane, Black Paladin, and her crew. Our Empress is so glad you could make it!” he said.

“Thank you,” Shiro bowed again, “Speaking of the Empress, is she…” Shiro trailed off, turning to look up and down the hangar path. She abandoned all attempts to finish her sentence at the sight of her best friend, blazing a path towards her.

“Shiro!” Keith shouted, running towards her with bounding steps. Shiro barely had time to marvel at Keith being here, wisps of black hair tumbling out of her ponytail with the force of her steps. She managed one step, then another, before Keith’s weight slammed against her. 

Shiro caught Keith with arms around her waist, taking a step back to balance as the full force of her best friend hit her. Keith wrapped wiry, muscled arms around Shiro’s neck-- _had she gotten taller?_ \--laughing into Shiro’s skin.

Shiro felt an answering laugh bubble out of her. She squeezed Keith even tighter, breathing in the smell of her jasmine shampoo. The material of Keith’s Blades uniform was a cool balm against her hot skin--the way the suit looked, hugging every curve of Keith’s body, only heated it more.

Keith pulled back enough to look Shiro in the eyes, whispering, “Surprise.”

“Did you get taller?” Shiro blurted out, and melted at Keith’s soft laugh.

“Maybe you’re just shrinking,” Keith teased. How had Shiro forgotten how beautiful her eyes were? Each of them held a galaxy of hues, liquid black and purple and blue swirled together like the deepest reaches of space.

The sound of a throat being cleared shocked Shiro out of her daze, and she stepped back from Keith with a jolt. Keith’s cheeks flushed a deep purple to match Shiro’s pink ones.

Shiro’s embarrassment quickly faded in the wake of her excitement when she realized who had accompanied Keith--Romelle, stunning in a Blades uniform and long blonde braids, Hunk, never without his signature yellow headband, and Pidge--Shiro suspected the Green paladin had been the one to break her and Keith out of their moment, if the smug smile on her face was anything to go off of. 

Someone that small shouldn’t look that smug, or _knowing._ It was unnerving.

Shiro stooped a little to hug Pidge, lifting her off her feet for a moment, before Hunk lifted Shiro off her own. He smelled like a bakery, warmth and butter and sugar. His hair was longer than last time she’d seen him, a few months ago on Earth, pulled back into a loose braid. 

“What are all of you doing here?” Shiro asked, Altean welcome party well forgotten.

“You really think we would miss New Altea’s first birthday?” Pidge responded with a smirk.

_First Birthday?_ Shiro wondered if maybe Iverson had been stingy with the details because Allura had been just as secretive--inviting her friends to a celebration under the guise of a Coalition meeting. It was just like her, and the thought warmed Shiro through.

“You really think I would let anybody else plan the menu?” answered Hunk, offended by the mere possibility.

Shiro looked to Keith, who shrugged and said, “I called in a few favors, I had more than earned a vacation after that last mission.”

With another jolt, Shiro remembered she had come here with a crew of twenty people, but when she whirled back to face the ATLAS, she saw them unloading supplies under Sam’s direction. Pidge noticed the same thing, bounding over to her dad and brother.

“Shiro,” she heard from behind her. Shiro turned towards Allura’s lilting voice, tears stinging her eyes before she even saw her. The Empress of New Altea was walking towards them, wrapped in pale blue and adorned with a delicate crown. Lance walked at her side, beaming. The frantic energy that always seemed to accompany Lance’s movements was gone, replaced with a quiet surety. He looked more _himself_ than Shiro had ever seen him.

“Empress Allura,” Shiro murmured, bowing deeply to her friend.

“Oh, stop that!,” Allura dismissed the bow with a wave of her hand, stepping forward to squeeze Shiro tightly. Her hair tickled Shiro’s face, soft and smelling of juniberries. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Shiro,” Allura said warmly. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

-

Allura invited them to dinner that night, in her private dining room in the castle. When Shiro arrived, most of the chairs were filled, leaving a spot open between Matt and Kolivan, the latter of which was deep in conversation with Coran. Shiro took a moment to admire the group spread around her, a peaceful blend of human, Altean and Galra. 

Keith sat a few seats away, still in her uniform, between junior Blades Acxa and Romelle. She laughed hard at something Hunk said, head thrown back to reveal the sharp lines of her throat. 

Shiro marveled at the sight, the _sound_ , of Keith’s laughter. Of how at ease she looked, nestled between her recruits. Her year with the blades had smoothed some of Keith’s jagged edges, and the pride swelling in Shiro’s chest threatened to choke her. Shiro noticed how Acxa and Romelle moved around her, taking her leadership even in quiet personal moments, and beamed. 

She had always known Keith was a great leader. She had the right instincts, and the skills, and she was so _good,_ better than she or anyone else had believed--save Shiro. But now? Now it was obvious to anyone who looked at her, and Shiro loved that.

Shiro was delighted to find Allura sitting across from her, posture regal even in relaxation. She smiled wickedly at Shiro before digging into her food.

“How is New Altea lately, Allura?” Shiro asked, eyeing the food on her own plate. As usual, everything Hunk made looked mouthwatering, even if Shiro didn’t know what any of it was called.

“Good! We are on-track to finish all of the projects we had hoped to in our first year here,” Allura answered. “The Olkari have been such a big help, and Pidge of course, in helping us build and create without disturbing the existing wildlife.”

“That sounds like Pidge,” Shiro laughed softly, eyeing Pidge down the table. As if she heard her name, she turned and caught Shiro’s gaze, making a silly face before turning back to her own conversation.

“Yes! And of course Hunk has helped a ton with cuisine development, blending traditional Altean foods with other cultures,” Allura continued, “And of course, I’ve incorporated many elements of Earth culture as well!”

“By Earth culture you mean… Lance culture?” Shiro asked wryly, warmed by Allura’s answering cackle.

“Yes, I’m sure I do,” she answered, a fond gaze finding the human in question. Her eyes softened at the sight of him, and her cheeks darkened.

Shiro reached across the table, wrapping her human hand around Allura’s and squeezing lightly.

“I’m happy for you, Allura,” she said quietly. Allura squeezed back, fingers cool and soft.

“Oh! That reminds me!,” Allura said, “I was hoping you could meet me tomorrow morning, to talk about the Birthday Gala!”

“Oh! Um, sure? I’m not much of an expert on parties or anything, though.”

“I’m well aware of that, Shiro,” Allura responded with a playful roll of her eyes--Allura had once sought Shiro’s help in planning a surprise party for Lance, and was baffled by Shiro’s lack of instinct for things like decorations, or color schemes. 

“Ouch!” Shiro said, exaggerated hurt in her voice, “Well, as long as you don’t want me to pick out streamers or design invitations, sure, I’m all yours.”

Shiro had hoped to catch Keith alone after dinner, but the other woman slipped from the room quietly before it cleared. Shiro climbed into bed early that night, and was almost asleep when a quiet ping from her PADD roused her. She reached blindly for the tablet, groping around before her fingers bumped into the cool metal.

Squinting, she read the message flashing across the screen, fighting back a wide smile.

[Keith 10:48 PM]: Goodnight :)

-

Then next morning brought a meeting, bright and early, with Allura. The New Altean castle was a little bit of a maze, but Shiro found her way to Allura’s study with a few minutes to spare. It was tastefully decorated, and cozy. Allura was already seated at her desk, poring over a paper-thin glass screen, when Shiro entered. She offered Shiro a warm smile and gestured for her to sit.

“Good morning, Shiro,” Allura said.

“Good morning.”

Allura paused her scrolling, setting her tablet down and meeting Shiro’s gaze thoughtfully. “Can you believe it’s been a year?”

Shiro shook her head with a small smile. She had asked herself the same thing more than once during her trip on ATLAS. 

“I think I could use your help,” Allura said.

“Allura, we talked about this--I’m awful at parties, please-”

“Not that kind of help, Shiro.” 

“Oh.” Shiro sat back, puzzled.

“There has been a little bit of… resistance to my incorporation of Human culture here on New Altea. There are, well they call themselves ‘Altean Cultural Purists,’ vocally objecting to anything new,” Allura explained. She looked troubled, a deep line creasing her forehead. “I fear that if New Altea can’t embrace change, especially Earth culture, they won’t accept Lance either.” 

_Oh._ Lance wasn’t Altean, glowing marks or no, and Earth didn’t have much to offer in the way of diplomatic relations. A small, previously unknown planet, with nothing to its name save the paladins of Voltron.

“The fact that he’s the Blue Paladin isn’t enough?” Shiro asked.

Allura shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. It also doesn’t seem to matter how much good Lance has done: for New Altea, for me, for the universe. It’s so frustrating!”

“I can only imagine,” Shiro murmured.

“I’m hoping New Altea’s first birthday celebration will be a positive blend of our cultures. That’s where I could use your help, Shiro,” Allura said, worry etching lines into her skin.

“How so?” Shiro asked.

“Lance and I have been watching Earth movies…” Allura begins, “and I must say I’ve quite enjoyed a few of them! One in particular I’ve watched a couple of times, I just love the dresses and the beautiful music. And so I-I’ve had an idea.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiro murmured. Allura’s hesitation triggered a spike of concern in Shiro. 

“We are going to throw a ball!” Allura exclaimed.

“A ball?” Shiro asked incredulously.

“Yes! With elaborate dress and dancing. I’ve even made some… dance cards, I think they’re called?” Allura’s excitement bubbled out of her, but it barely cut through Shiro’s confusion.

“Allura, Earth cultures haven’t used dance cards in hundreds of years!” Shiro protested. She wasn’t even sure she fully understood how a dance card actually worked.

“Many of the New Altean customs that we have attempted to revive haven’t been practiced in more than ten thousand years, Shiro!” Allura returned, voice rising.

“That’s… fair, actually,” Shiro conceded. She sat back in her chair, wondering to herself what movie Lance must have shown her. Clearly nothing from the last century.

“I’m still not sure where I factor into all of this. I’m no expert on Earth movies or… dance cards?” Shiro worried her bottom lip between her teeth, anxiety growing. She loved Allura, truly she did, but this was starting to feel again like a Garrison mission--dressed for an audience, but never _doing_ anything.

“Well, I’m afraid if the Alteans don’t see our Human guests actually _participating_ in the dancing, it will be all too easy for them to reject the activity out of hand. You see, Earth dancing really is quite different from Altean,” Allura explained.

“So you need me to…” Shiro began, dread pooling in her stomach.

“Dance! You’ll have a dance card, and I need you to fill it up, Shiro,” Allura fixed her with a stern glance, as if she expected resistance.

And resistance is exactly what Shiro was going to give her.

“Allura, I can’t-”

Allura cut her off, “No objections, Shiro. All of the other paladins have agreed to do their part. I need you to do the same.”

“All of them? Even Keith?” Shiro asked, incredulous. She can’t imagine Keith in a dress, let alone _dancing_ in one.

“Yes, even Keith. I was surprised when Lance seemed to think you would be particularly unwilling to participate, for some reason,” Allura pondered Shiro curiously, “But apparently he was correct.”

“Yes, he was,” Shiro grumbled. 

She _can’t_ dance. There had been a particularly embarrassing night during one of Lance’s recent visits, involving far too much Nunvill and some ancient Earth music, when Lance had learned exactly that. He had laughed until Shiro started throwing things at him, and promised to never tell a soul how terrible she was. Apparently he had kept his promise, just barely.

Allura looked pleadingly at her. “Shiro, I need your help. Do you understand?”

Shiro took a deep, grounding breath, closing her eyes. Across the backs of her eyelids flashed memories of Allura, fighting for Shiro, supporting her, risking her life to save Shiro, Earth, their whole reality. Dancing was the least she could do.

“Okay.”

Allura smiled bright at her, joyful and satisfied.

-

Keith was wrapping her hands when Shiro entered the training room, dark hair pulled back in a haphazard bun. Shiro’s heart settled at the sight, slowing and steadying from the shaky beat it was pounding. She’d been thinking about the gala, about _dancing,_ since her meeting with Allura, and nothing had taken her mind off of it so far. Working out, especially sparring, always had a way of grounding her, centering her in her body. 

When she approached Keith, the senior blade was bending towards her feet, stretching her legs with practiced movements. Her leggings clung to the curves of her legs as she moved, and it was distracting as ever. She smiled wide up at Shiro, eyebrows raising over her dark eyes. Shiro dropped her bag to the mat with a loud slap, and flopped down next to it.

Keith chuckled low, and asked, “That kind of day, huh?” 

Shiro nodded while she wrapped her own hand, and fiddled with her Altean arm, switching on a sparring setting. Pidge had modified the arm, adding a setting to dull the power of the arm’s strikes, after watching her and Keith spar. She always held back with the arm, its deadly power too dangerous to use anywhere near Keith, even while it drove her crazy to half-ass a fight. She wouldn’t risk hurting her again.

Not that Keith had, or would, say anything about it.

They faced each other on the mat, and Keith beckoned her closer with two fingers, a challenge written in her smile. Shiro didn’t wait, lunging fast for Keith, who easily sidestepped her. Shiro pivoted and swung a leg at Keith’s ankles, but Keith jumped nimbly over her sweep, laughing. Shiro loved this laugh of Keith’s, loud and bright. 

They attacked and evaded, moving together with a comfortable rhythm. Shiro tried to lose herself in the flow of it, the stress of everything on her mind still fighting for presence and recognition. She got a grip on Keith finally, bringing her down to the mat hard. 

Keith smiled up at her, teasing, and said, “Whatever it is, you’re still thinking about it.”

Keith wasn’t wrong, and she took the opportunity to flip them, rolling so Shiro was pinned beneath her. Shiro stretched and pulled, trying to use her slight height advantage to get out of Keith’s hold, but Keith held her firm. 

“It’s just this stupid dance thing. I don’t want to do it,” Shiro said, huffing out a frustrated sigh. 

“Why not? Afraid you’ll have to dance with a handsy Unilu?” Keith asked. She fought to keep a straight face, but Shiro could hear the laugh in her voice anyway.

Shiro shook her head, and took advantage of the momentary ease of Keith’s hold to flip them, legs tangled together. Keith wiggled beneath her, whipcord muscles bunching in Shiro’s hold.

Shiro squeezed a tight grip into Keith’s wrists, slamming them back down onto the mat. Her words popped out of her with the impact, “I don’t know _how_ to dance!”

Shiro’s face was already warmed with exertion, but embarrassment heated it further. What a ridiculous thing to shout in your best friends face.

“I-,” Shiro began, before her world was spun upside down and she found herself flat on her back, Keith’s thighs pinning her to the rubbery floor. 

Keith’s hands trapped hers firmly, slender fingers wrapped around her wrists like steel. 

“I can teach you.”

Whatever Shiro had been about to say dissolved on her tongue as Keith’s words sunk in. Teach her? When did Keith learn how to dance?

Loose wisps of Keith’s hair fell out from the bun it was wrapped in, falling around Shiro like a curtain. They tickled her skin lightly, and she shivered at the touch.

This close, she could see the glint of Keith’s sharp canines, and the palest dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose. 

“Teach me?” Shiro asked breathlessly.

Keith shrugged almost imperceptibly, “Yeah, if you want.”

Shiro flexed her hands, wrists pulling at Keith’s hold, and the movement was enough for Keith to pull back, sitting back on her heels. Shiro sat up and leaned back on her palms, breathing hard. 

“You know how to dance?” she asked.

Keith made a disgruntled face, and answered, “I’ve been to tons of events with the Blades. Dancing seems to be pretty freaking universal.”

“Oh.”

“So, _Admiral,”_ Keith said, eyes dancing, “want my help?”

Shiro considered for a moment, or at least pretended to--her mind was made up the moment Keith offered--and nodded.

Keith left Shiro just like that, sprawled across the training room floor, as she picked up her bag and sauntered out.

-

After a long, hot shower, Shiro checked her PADD to find a message from Keith, with a meeting time and directions to a room in the castle. Shiro couldn’t help but smile at Keith’s brevity, and it cut into her anxiety just enough.

After dinner, Shiro dressed in a faded tank top and joggers, and wandered through the castle following Keith’s instructions. She wondered as she walked, how Keith had become so familiar with the ins and outs of the maze of a building in such a short time.

When she reached her destination, she was surprised to find it was a moderately sized ballroom. Tall, vaulted ceilings rose over a smooth and shining floor, and her light steps echoed through the room. 

Keith was already there, stretching her arms over her head in a graceful arch, and grinning wickedly at Shiro. Shiro flashed a quick smile in return. She was antsy with anxiety--she hated failing with an audience. Especially when that audience was the person she cared about most.

The logical part of Shiro’s brain told her that Keith wouldn’t judge her, that her best friend had brought her back from death’s door, and that dancing was pretty inconsequential in comparison, but it did nothing to quell the tremble in her hands. 

“Shiro?” Keith asked, voice filtering in as if from a distance.

“Hmm?”

“Are you ready to start?”

Shiro looked up at Keith, at the kindness and support in her violet eyes, and a smile spread across her face almost against her will. Shiro shrugged, and answered, “As ready as I’ll ever be, I think.”

Keith chuckled quietly, eyes dancing, and beckoned Shiro closer. Walking towards Keith came naturally to Shiro, like she was caught in her orbit. She had spent years circling close, always aware of Keith’s presence in relation to her own.

When she was an arm’s reach away, Shiro stopped, looking at Keith expectantly. Moving slowly, as if Shiro was a wild animal she didn’t want to startle, Keith reached out to take Shiro’s left hand in her right, and placed it gently on Keith’s shoulder. 

Shiro flexed her fingers, squeezing lightly, then settled. Keith grabbed her right hand and held it in her own between their bodies, before wrapping slender fingers around Shiro’s hip.

Shiro was used to being touched by Keith. Her best friend was surprisingly tactile, and over time Shiro had been able to steel herself against all the little touches, to accept them and reciprocate without revealing her longing. 

Keith touching her like this, holding her close and sharing breath, felt different. It was _intimate_ in a way Shiro hadn’t let herself be with anyone in a very long time, maybe ever. The old Shiro, the golden girl of the Garrison, the young woman who didn’t know violence or war, only dreams of space and adventure, could have done this. But this Shiro? She wasn’t so sure.

“Okay, Shiro, we’re going to try something simple, alright?” Keith asked, voice low. 

Shiro nodded, gulping. She realized after a moment that Keith must have turned on some quiet music, and it had been playing for who knows how long. It was orchestral, something sweet with an easy tempo. 

Shiro listened as Keith explained a simple step pattern, swaying slightly to the music. With a soft pressure on her hip, Keith encouraged Shiro back a step, then another. They started slow, stepping in small turns. Keith’s leadership was steady, steps smooth and light, but Shiro struggled anyway.

Her steps were heavy, faltering, and she tripped over her own feet, and at times Keith’s, every few steps. Her frustration grew, bubbling up inside her until it came out in grumpy huffs of breath and the tight clench of her muscles. 

After a particularly embarrassing stumble, only recovered by Keith’s swift recovery, Shiro asked for a break. Keith grabbed a couple water bottles from her bag and paused the music. 

Shiro leaned against one of the walls, pondering Keith.

“So, where did these secret dance moves come from?” she asked, hoping Keith couldn’t see through her humor to the disappointment in her own moves.

She wasn’t sure why she bothered hoping; Keith had always been able to see right through her.

“I wouldn’t call them secret. I’ve been to tons of events with the Blades, and more than one involved dancing,” Keith answered simply, “You should see the dances they do on some of these planets, Shiro. They’re… interesting.” Keith’s hair was pulled back into a loose braid, spilling over one shoulder. Sweat curled the wispy pieces along the edges, framing her face delicately, hiding her sharp angles.

A spike of jealousy shot through Shiro, imagining Keith spinning across the dance floor with unnamed strangers, someone else’s hands wrapped around the curve of her hip, alien fingers twined through her nimble human ones. 

Shiro swallowed the irrational feeling down, smiling at Keith and murmuring, “You’re always surprising me somehow, Keith.”

Keith’s answering smile was a little surprised, but no less bright for it.

When they came back together, Shiro had hope that she’d improved, even a little. If anything, it was the opposite.

Keith’s hand held her hip with a gentle, unassuming grip. Shiro’s tank top had shifted, and Keith’s thumb slid against the strip of skin it revealed. The feel of it, warm and a little rough, was all Shiro could think about. All of her awareness narrowed and centered on that point of contact, and she quickly lost track of where her feet were supposed to go.

Keith took pity on her after a few more minutes, offering to meet with Shiro a few more times before the night of the ball. Shiro, rubbing an absent hand over the skin of her hip, agreed instantly.

She walked back to ATLAS feeling Keith’s phantom touch, the notes of a waltz wafting through her brain.

-

Shiro had just changed back into comfortable street clothes after an early morning run when Allura came to see her on ATLAS. She walked into Shiro’s quarters regally, like she knew she had every right to be there. She wasn’t wrong, but her boldness made Shiro laugh.

“Guess where we’re going today?” Allura asked, a sly look on her face.

“To… a room in the castle?” 

Allura shook her head, her smile growing steadily.

“We, my dear friend, are going shopping!” she said with enthusiasm, clapping her hands together.

Shopping wasn’t one of the activities Shiro had been able to indulge herself in during the last year on Earth, not that she’d tried much. Partially because things like malls and large stores were largely decimated in the Galra invasion. And at least a little bit because everywhere Shiro went, she was recognized. 

But New Altea was different. Setting her shoulders, she nodded and smiled back, taking Allura’s hand in her own as they left ATLAS and the castle hangar.

The walk from the castle to the mall was surprisingly brief, or maybe not so surprising, considering Allura’s love of malls. As they walked, Allura told Shiro about all of the little projects she had been working on to develop New Altea. Construction of new buildings, parks for residents to enjoy. Her love for her people, for their new home, shone out of her--even if at times it was tempered with exasperation. Shiro basked in its warmth.

They met up with Pidge along the way, dapper in a dark green shirt and black pants, made of a material Shiro had never seen. Shiro couldn’t help but notice the little ways that the paladins held onto their lions--the green of Pidge’s shirt, Hunk’s hair wrapped in a bright bandana. 

They stopped at a restaurant just inside the entrance, gorging themselves on Altean food, and finishing with a New Altean staple--milkshakes. Allura, apparently with a lot of encouragement from Lance, had overcome her dismay about the source of milk, at least enough to import a few hundred Kalteneckers for all of her milkshake shops. They laughed until Shiro’s stomach hurt at Allura’s stories of the first few ‘dairy farmers’ she had hired and trained. Shiro’s heart and stomach were equally full, both feeling like they were in very real danger of bursting.

“What are we shopping for?” Shiro asked, heaving herself out of her chair to amble behind Allura.

“You’ll see,” Allura answered, and her sly smile returned. A smile that always made Shiro a _little_ nervous--it usually meant trouble. Pidge and Shiro shared a look.

She pulled them along until they reached their destination. Allura slowed to a stop and turned to her companions with her arms wide, and Shiro’s eyes widened to match. They had stopped in front of a display of mannequins, all sporting complex and fanciful clothing, mostly something akin to a ballgown. 

Realization dawned--”Dress shopping? We are getting dresses for the gala.”

“My dear, _you two_ are getting a dress for the gala. I’ve had my dress for ages.” Allura answered, laughing, and pulled Shiro and Pidge into the shop before they could protest any further.

An employee greeted them, a willowy Altean with waves of long blue hair, and immediately set to measuring Shiro. Pidge tried to wave off another employee, but eventually stood still long enough to be measured as well. They were efficient and brisk, only partially engaging Allura in her attempts at conversation.

“I’m not getting a dress,” Pidge stated firmly, a frown pulling at the edges of her mouth.

Allura considered her for a moment before smiling softly, and reaching out to hold both of Pidge’s hands in her own.

“You can wear whatever makes you happy, my friend. All I ask is that you let me help you find it,” Allura said softly. The tension in Pidge’s shoulders seemed to drain out of her, and she nodded, squeezing Allura’s hands in return. 

The attendants flitted around the shop, yanking clothing off of racks and piling them into two stacks. Shiro’s anxiety grew along with her pile of potential dresses, but she let herself be shuffled into a dressing room with a handful of garments.

She could hear Allura giving her feedback on the dresses in the pile, sending some away before Shiro even got a chance to try them on. Shiro was grateful for it--clothes shopping had never been her favorite thing, but now, after losing her arm and gaining dozens of scars, it could be downright painful. 

She removed her clothes, folding them neatly into a pile in the corner of the room, before eyeing the first dress. It was bright purple, the sleeves and skirt seemed impossibly poofy. Shiro sighed deeply and pulled it on. On her body it was… even worse, somehow. She looked like a giant, puffy, eggplant.

She walked out of the dressing room sporting a deep frown to match, but even that wasn’t enough to stop Allura’s sharp bark of laughter. She slapped a hand over her mouth but the humor dancing in her eyes was enough. Shiro stomped back into the dressing room and yanked the purple monstrosity off.

She had to have tried on at least twenty more dresses. Pieces of her hair were matted to her skin with sweat, and her shoulders hurt from squeezing into oddly shaped bodices. So far there were two dresses that Shiro _kind of_ liked, but nothing had been great. 

She made careful efforts not to look too long at her reflection. When she did, her scars stood out in stark relief against her skin, pink and irritated from being chafed against fabric.

Pidge, on the other hand, found a perfect outfit instantly--a deep forest green jumpsuit, belted in sparkling silver. The accompanying cape was elegant, wrapping around Pidge’s arms without swamping her. It had been the second thing she tried on, and she kept it on where she sat next to Allura, chirping out unhelpful jokes about Shiro’s unfortunate options.

As Shiro was stripping off the latest try--a bright pink thing reminiscent of Junior High dances--she could hear Allura having some _words_ with the attendants, making some of her own choices before settling back down next to Pidge.

An attendant slipped in, removing the pile of dresses Shiro’s already shoved herself into, and quietly setting down a new pile with a tight smile. Shiro smiled back, hoping Allura wasn’t being too hard on them. It’s probably not their fault Shiro can’t find anything that looks right. She was built wider than most Alteans, and her time as Champion and in Voltron had only swelled her muscles, especially her shoulders. 

The next choice felt… nice, actually. Silken black fabric wrapped around her with just the right pressure, hugging against her curves without the suffocating feeling that seemed to accompany many of the other dresses. A cape, made of an iridescent mesh-like material, attached at the shoulders and wrapped loosely around her arms, almost like sleeves.

She took a couple stilted steps around the dressing room, captivated by the way the stars in the top layer glittered as the skirt moved around her ankles. 

When Allura caught sight of Shiro walking out of the dressing room, she stopped speaking mid-sentence, mouth falling open as she took in the sight. Pidge’s expression was comically similar, both of them lost for words--a first, in Shiro’s experience. 

“I literally can not tell what your ridiculous faces mean,” Shiro said, with a slight frown.

“Shiro,” Allura said, awed, “you look incredible.”

“Yes. That.” Pidge echoed.

Shiro chewed at the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling as she turned to one of the mirrors. The shimmer of the stars dotted throughout the materials is a little mesmerizing. Shiro swiveled her hips back and forth to swish the skirts, a quiet laugh bubbling out of her at the simple pleasure.

“Wow,” a soft voice murmured, snapping Shiro out of her reverie. She whirled around, just to come face to face with--Keith. Keith and Romelle, to be more precise, the latter beaming at Shiro. Keith’s face was awed, slack, and the smoothie in her hand seemed likely to slip right out. 

“Keith-” Shiro said, like it was the only word her mouth remembered how to say.

“You, um--Shiro, you look--that dress looks great,” Keith stuttered out. Her usual ease and wit was nowhere to be found.

“Thank you,” Shiro murmured back.

She turned to check with Allura and Pidge again. Allura was nodding vigorously, almost dangerously so, and Pidge flashed her two thumbs up.

“I guess… I’m getting this one?” The words sounded like a question, even to her own ears.

Allura and the store employees burst into a flurry of movement, helping Shiro get out of the dress and get it into a garment bag before she donned her own clothes. Shiro offered multiple times to just carry it out and home, but Allura refused, assuring her that it would be shipped to the ATLAS and transported with care. It was clear from the way Allura said it, that she did not trust Shiro to handle the task. She was probably right not to.

She also didn’t let Shiro pay for the dress. Or even _see_ how much it cost, no matter how hard Shiro pushed.

Pouting, Shiro flopped onto the couch where Pidge was still sprawled, fitting neatly between her and Romelle. Her hair clung to her neck with sweat, and she was far more exhausted than she expected to be. 

She was a little glad Keith had opted to stroll around the store for a few minutes. Shiro couldn’t get the look on Keith’s face out of her head, or the heat that had rushed through her at the sight. 

Keith had looked at her like she was a desert sunset, like home and mystery and beauty all blended together. Nobody had ever looked at her like that, let alone _Keith._

When Allura returned to them, business completed, another sly expression had taken over her features. Shiro narrowed her eyes at Allura, highly suspicious, but the Empress ignored her.

“Well! I think it’s time for me to return to the castle. I’ve escaped my duties for long enough,” she announced, casting a meaningful look at Pidge.

Pidge, sharp as ever, caught on quickly.

“Me too!” she chirped, and thrust a sharp little elbow into Shiro’s side at the roll of her eyes. Shiro winced, rubbing at the sore spot on her ribs, before rucking up Pidge’s hair.

Keith had ambled back to where they sat, and looked between the two of them with curiosity.

“I can walk back with you two,” Shiro said, but Allura started shaking her head before the words finished coming out of Shiro’s mouth. 

“Of course not, my friend! You still need to find jewelry, or your look will be woefully incomplete!” Allura insisted. 

“We can go with you, Shiro,” Romelle offered.

“Romi, my dear, I was hoping you’d join me in my next meeting,” Allura said, her voice sticky sweet.

“Oh,” Romelle said, a frown creasing her forehead. She looked intently at Allura, reading her expression before continuing, “Oh, yes! I forgot about the… meeting.”

Keith looked just as suspicious as Shiro felt, glancing between the two Alteans. “Ookay…” 

“Keith, since I’m stealing your companion, maybe you could accompany Shiro on her quest for suitable jewelry?” Allura asked in that same honeyed voice.

“Uh huh,” Keith smirked at Shiro, not fooled for a moment, “Of course I can, Allura.”

Allura swooped down on Shiro, pressing kisses to both of her cheeks, before ushering Pidge and Romelle out the door. The store was oddly quiet after their departure, and Shiro shifted her weight back and forth before looking up at Keith through her bangs.

Keith rolled her eyes playfully at Shiro’s glance, and twined slender fingers through Shiro’s, guiding her gently out of the store and into the mall proper.

“Come on,” Keith said fondly.

To Shiro’s surprise, Keith didn’t let go of her hand outside the store. She kept Shiro’s fingers in a firm grip as they strolled around. Most of the signs were written in alien languages, so they shopped by display, finally finding an upscale-looking jewelry shop on the second floor.

When Keith finally pulled her fingers from Shiro’s, her skin tingled with the loss. 

They wandered through glass display cases filled with sparkling jewels, and metals neither of them recognized. Everything was just so _dramatic_ jewels stacked in precarious towers, metal twined so ornately Shiro wasn’t sure what body part they were worn on. Nothing seemed like Shiro’s style, not that she was much of a jewelry person anyway.

“I have jewelry back on Atlas. Maybe I could just wear some of that and tell Allura I bought new stuff?” Shiro suggests with a laugh.

“Allura will believe you went to a jewelry store and bought Garrison-issue dog tags and an old friendship bracelet?” 

“Hey!” Shiro objects, laughing harder, “ _You_ gave me that bracelet!”

Keith looks incredulous, “I know I did! I made it when I was sixteen, and it’s been through the ringer. Shiro, I’m pretty sure it has blood on it!”

“ _Had_ blood on it. I got it all out!” Shiro says, but she knows the battle is lost. She hadn’t been able to wear the bracelet, white and gold thread knotted into haphazard patterns, when she left for Kerberos. If she had it would have been lost forever to the Galran fighting pits--she was glad she left it in Keith’s hands.

When she woke back on Earth, it had been tied around her wrist, Keith’s fingers twined in hers, lines of worry fading into a soft smile when Keith realized Shiro was awake. Her face warmed at the memory, at the way the sight of the familiar handiwork had somehow calmed her racing heart, despite everything.

“Okay, guess I have to find something, then,” Shiro admitted.

Keith hummed, attention caught by a small, unassuming display. Shiro followed her gaze to a glass case, filled with small, sparkling gems and metal shaped into tiny stars. 

“What about that one?” Keith asks, pointing to a delicate necklace of white metal and gems that shone deep violet. It looked complex, 2 or 3 thin chains dangling at different lengths, two adorned with small metal stars, another with gems along its length. 

“It seems nice.” Shiro answered. Truthfully she wasn’t sure she’s ever even owned a necklace. She certainly hadn’t worn one in quite some time.

Keith flagged down a shop employee and asked to look at the necklace in the case, gesturing at Shiro. The employee removed the necklace, standing behind Shiro and waiting patiently for her to bow her head before fastening it to her neck.

Keith looked at her thoughtfully, stroking her chin and humming loudly. Mischief danced in her eyes. 

“Out with it, you,” Shiro said, frowning at Keith, hands on her hips.

“Frankly it looks ridiculous with that shirt,” Keith answered. 

Shiro threw her hands up in the air, moving to undo the clasp at the back of her neck and just walk back to the castle, necklace be damned. Keith stopped her with a hand on her arm, and an earnest smile.

“Shiro, I’m kidding. It’s beautiful. It would go with that dress,” Keith says, and Shiro knows she’s being genuine.

Shiro let Keith unclasp the necklace from her neck, shuddering at the soft brush of her calloused fingers, before handing it back to the employee to be packaged up. While she talked with them, she noticed Keith eyeing a different necklace in the same case--it was a little smaller, dark red gems glittering in a black metal choker. 

“That one too!” Shiro gestured at the necklace, feeling immensely pleased at the shocked expression on Keith’s face.

“Shiro, you don’t have-” Keith starts.

“I know I don’t _have_ to do anything, Keith. I want to,” Shiro assured her.

Shiro could tell it was a fight for Keith to snap her mouth shut, breathing deeply. She was fiercely independent, and even years later, her first instinct was to reject any gift. What had changed over time, however, was the way her shoulders dropped after a moment, looking back at Shiro with gratitude, and maybe a little resignation.

“Thank you,” Keith said softly. The look she gave Shiro then was sweet, unguarded.

“Don’t worry about it. Hell, Allura didn’t let me pay for my dress, consider this paying it forward, and you can do the same. Get… Lance a new suit or something,” Shiro couldn’t help but cackle at Keith’s grumpy expression at the mention of Lance. He still had a special way of getting under Keith’s skin.

Necklace boxes in hand, they made their way back to the castle. The two suns setting in the distance bathed Keith in a warm golden light and Shiro knew she’d never seen anything so lovely.

-

The next morning found Shiro and Keith back in their little ballroom, practicing simple steps again, and occasionally attempting something more difficult. 

Thirty doboshes in, and Shiro was sweaty, frustrated, and a little sore. She had two left feet, and found herself tripping over them, and occasionally Keith’s, with every few steps. Her body just wasn’t _cooperating_ , and started to feel like her body, her movements, weren’t her own anymore.

Again.

Shiro felt disconnected from her body, anxious thoughts and worries about every move running through her brain on a loop. 

One particularly clumsy turn sent her and Keith both crashing to the ground with a hard thump. Shiro smacked a hand against the floor, swearing loudly, before flopping onto her back with a loud groan. 

She heard Keith slide closer, until the other woman was laying right next to her, shoulder to shoulder. Keith didn’t say anything, just waited, like she always did. Shiro loved how Keith knew what she needed, always gave her the space and silence to sort out what she wanted to say. Or to build up the courage. 

Shiro had a reputation for her immense patience, but it was Keith’s patience that saved her over and over.

“I hate that this is so much harder than fighting,” Shiro said, staring straight at the ceiling. 

Keith didn’t say a word, she just kept waiting.

“I don’t know why. It doesn’t make any sense,” Shiro continued, “They’re basically the same thing, but my body won’t cooperate.”

Keith was quiet for a long moment,eyes fixed on the ceiling, before saying, “Maybe the issue isn’t in your body, Shiro. Maybe it’s in your head.”

Keith’s words were soft, non-judgmental, but Shiro still felt them like a blow. Not because they were cruel, or even unkind, but because Keith was _right._

“Yeah,” Shiro whispered. She took a long shuddering breath.

“I just--I’m not sure I’m wired for this. Fighting in the arena, or against the Galra that was--it was simple, you know? Violence is easy,” Shiro said, her voice cracking with the words, “But--dancing? Grace? That’s so much harder.”

Shiro swallowed hard.

“I don’t know how to use my body to do something beautiful.”

Hot tears trickled across Shiro’s temples and into her hair. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried in front of somebody else, but she didn’t try to stop them. 

She could feel Keith’s gaze on her face, warm and searching. Keith reached out, thumb gently swiping at the trails of wetness, and whispered, “Shiro.”

Shiro let her head fall to the side, gaze sliding to Keith. Keith, whose dark eyes looked straight into hers. Keith had always looked at things head on, ready to meet whatever challenge standing between her and what she wanted.

Still holding Shiro’s face with gentle fingers, Keith said softly, “Everything you do is beautiful.”

-

The morning of New Altea’s birthday started with a cozy breakfast in Allura’s dining room. Breakfast foods spread across the tables, from Earth and New Altea and a smattering of other planets, all prepared with Hunk’s loving touch. 

The man in question rested his chin in his hands quietly, watching his friends eat with a fond smile. He caught Shiro watching him and his smile deepened, crinkling his eyes.

Shiro had no appetite, despite how delicious the food seemed. She put a few slices of ham onto her plate, and a New Altean substance that looked a bit like scrambled eggs, only pale purple. Shiro forced herself to eat, focusing on one bite at a time until she cleared her plate.

Keith met her eyes across the table, a crooked smile on her lips. Something inside Shiro settled at the look, easing the tension in her shoulders and the clench of her jaw. 

Walking back to her quarters on ATLAS, the tightness slowly crept back in. She took a long shower, hoping to soothe her muscles under the spray of hot water. Shiro watched the rivulets stream down the skin of her arm, her legs, over the tops of her feet. She ran her fingers lightly across the scars slashed across her skin.

She shivered at the touch, at the slight deadening of the sensation where the scar tissue was thickest. There was some comfort in the numbness, since her time in the astral plane. After she’d returned to the world, in a new but familiar body, everything had been too _much_.

Keith had gotten her through it. She had been there every day, soothing Shiro’s nerves and her rough edges. Keith had wrapped strong arms around Shiro when Shiro woke in a panic, afraid she would disappear into nothingness again.

But there were times, even now, when this body didn’t feel like Shiro’s. Where she felt like she’d just been shoved inside, like she couldn’t remember the pain that caused each scar, like they belonged to somebody else.

This body never felt beautiful. Keith’s words rang through her mind, genuine and kind, but it was hard for Shiro to accept them as true. Her body had never felt beautiful--useful maybe. Strong, at least after her time in the arena.

Shiro’s whole life had been a battle against her body. Before she left for Kerberos, she fought every day against her body’s limitations, against the way others treated her like she was fragile. 

Then the Galra hard turned her into a _weapon_ , a tool to be used for their own entertainment. Haggar had created hundreds of bodies, each as much Shiro’s own as the one she was in now. Haggar had taken away Shiro’s ownership of herself; even if she had been fighting her body since she was young, it was still hers. Now, Shiro looked at her skin, pink from the heat of the shower, and wondered what it was like to live in a body you loved. Wondered what it was like to know where every mark, every scar, every imperfection came from and to love them because they were part of your story.

She dressed slowly, pulling the shimmering black dress out of its bag and onto her body. The material was cool against her skin, hugging the curves her uniform normally hid. Running her hands softly over the material, Shiro couldn’t help thinking about the look on Keith’s face when she had seen Shiro in the dress.

That look? It made Shiro feel beautiful for the first time in a long time.

She sat in front of the mirror, pondering her reflection. She wasn’t sure what else to do. She didn’t own any makeup, wasn’t sure she knew how to do anything with her hair beyond putting it in a ponytail. 

A soft knock at her door broke Shiro out of her building worry. She frowned, unsure of who could be at the door, and what they might do when she answered it in her current attire.

Shiro answered the door carefully and found Allura, in a cozy outfit and holding a large bag. She smiled at Shiro and raised her eyebrows meaningfully, waiting until Shiro stepped aside to let her in. 

Allura’s hair fell around her shoulders in soft curls, some pieces pulled back and wrapped into an intricate braid around the crown of her head. Makeup swirled around her eyes in glittering pastels, her lips perfectly lined and colored in a soft pink pout.

Allura led Shiro with a soft grip back to her seat before her mirror, and pulled up a seat to sit beside her. She unloaded her bag onto the table, taking brushes and pots of colors out and spreading them out. 

Turning to look at Shiro, Allura said softly, “I thought you might want some company.”

Shiro had been eyeing the array of products warily, but turned to properly face Allura at her soft comment. Allura’s eyes were soft, understanding, and Shiro felt the tension ease out of her.

Shiro smiled wryly. “Don’t you have a whole team of people to do this for you?” 

“There are many who would help if I asked, yes. But I’ve found that the quiet of preparing for a grand event is best enjoyed alone,” Allura answered, “Or with a friend.”

Allura squeezed Shiro’s hand in hers. She set to work, giving Shiro quiet directions to close her eyes, or tilt her head this way and that. She had a light tough, fingers cool and soft when they brushed over Shiro’s skin.

As Allura worked, she spoke, almost as if to herself. She spoke of Altea, of the demands on her time and energy, and the toll it took on her.

“Sometimes I consider stepping away, exploring the galaxies with no responsibilities,” Allura murmured.

“I think about that all the time,” Shiro answered before she caught herself. She turned wide eyes to Allura’s understanding ones.

“The burden of leadership is not easily born,” Allura said. Shiro nodded her agreement, worrying her lip with her teeth.

Allura eyed her thoughtfully, “Something is weighing heavy on you, Shiro. Not leadership though, I should think.”

Shiro was silent for a long moment, until Allura put two fingers under her chin and lifted Shiro’s gaze to meet her own.

“Whatever it is that’s weighing you down, Shiro, I have the utmost faith that you will find a way through it. You have the right instincts, and a good heart,” Allura said, never breaking her gaze.

Shiro felt tears gather in her eyes, bowled over by the strong faith in her friend’s words. She swallowed hard.

“I’m not needed anymore.”

Allura waited patiently, silently, for Shiro to continue.

“Throughout everything, I felt necessary. I was a gladiator, a paladin of Voltron, Captain of the ATLAS. I had a role and a purpose, and I achieved the things I meant to,” Shiro said, words tumbling out of her, “But now, even as an Admiral at the Garrison, even with ATLAS, I don’t think anybody _needs_ me.”

Allura considered her for a moment, and answered, “Maybe it’s time to think about what you need, not what others need of you.”

Shiro sat back in her chair, weighing the Empress’s words. She tried to think about what she wanted, for herself and no one else. Images she couldn’t hold back flashed through her mind--glittering stars, a sharp bright smile and dark violet eyes, a cozy spaceship flying between planets.

She thought of a life beyond Earth, traveling where and when she wanted. As she thought of leaving the Garrison behind, a pang of sadness shot through her at the idea of leaving ATLAS. A new image filled her mind, indistinct but full of reassurance--a smaller ship, white and glowing blue, with Shiro in the cockpit. 

Shiro smiled, reaching out a hand to rest against the wall. The wall warmed at her touch, and without the fear of abandoning the ship that had become part of Shiro’s concept of herself, it felt as if things clicked into place.

Tentatively, she whispered, “I’ve never done that before.”

Allura’s answering smile was radiant. “I think you’ll figure it out,” she whispered back, conspiratorially. 

Allura got back to work, sweeping Shiro’s hair into a half updo, leaving pieces out to frame her face. Returning to her bag, Allura pulled a bundle of soft fabric out and brought it to rest before Shiro. She nudged Shiro to open it, so Shiro unfolded the corners of the fabric carefully. Laying in the center was a delicately crafted hair pin, pale golden metal shaped into a sunburst. 

Shiro ran wondering fingers over the metal, looking at Allura with a question in her eyes. Allura simply smiled and picked up the pin, fastening it gently in Shiro’s hair, so it rested against the crown of her head.

Shiro turned to face herself in the mirror, and couldn’t help gasping. Her skin looked smooth and perfect, though Allura hadn’t attempted to hide the scar that slashed across her nose. Shiro was glad--for years she had hated the mark, resentful of the constant reminder of the horrors she’d faced.

Makeup adorned her eyes, shimmering cream and deep purple, making her silver eyes glow. Her hair looked soft, falling around her face in the barest of waves, the shining metal sunburst behind her head as if it was rising just behind her.

“Allura, I-” Shiro began, but she had no words. She felt _beautiful._

Allura met her eyes in the mirror, hands squeezing Shiro’s shoulders gently. Shiro rested a hand on top of Allura’s to return the contact. They stayed just like that, taking strength from each other, for as long as they could.

Allura packed up all of the supplies she had brought, tucking them neatly back into her bag, and Shiro walked her back to the door. As she was leaving, Allura turned to look at Shiro speculatively. 

“I think… the sun is still just beginning to rise on your life, Shiro. There’s so much more to look forward to.” She kissed each of Shiro’s cheeks and pulled her in for a tight, affectionate, hug, before leaving and pulling the door shut behind her.

-

An hour later, Shiro found herself hovering in the doorway of New Altea’s grand ballroom. Soft warm lights flickered at intervals along the walls and through the room, in a close approximation of fire light. Alteans, humans, and a few other races milled around in the room while soft music played. She could see Coran in a pale blue suit, speaking animatedly with Sam and Matt Holt. 

Shiro walked slowly through the room, smiling and greeting those she recognized, until she found an empty place at the edge next to a table of sparkling drinks. She picked one up and downed it quickly, gulping hard. 

Pidge sidled up next to her, resplendent in her deep green suit and cape. The shorter woman smiled up at Shiro, before looking her up and down and wolf whistling loudly. Shiro rolled her eyes, shifting to nudge her side against Pidge’s, but there was no force to it.

“You look great, Katie,” Shiro said softly, pitching her voice just enough to be heard.

“I really do, don’t I?” Pidge answered, with a wicked smile and a wink. Her confidence made Shiro laugh, and filled her with pride. Pidge had been the youngest of all of them when they had left Earth for an unexpected and immense destiny, yet at times Shiro thought she just might be the wisest.

Shiro and Pidge made conversation as more people trickled into the room. Attendants wove through the crowd, offering dance cards to those who wanted them, and Shiro took one with a murmured thanks. Pidge poked fun at her, but Shiro shrugged and maintained that she’s doing what she can to support Allura.

In the midst of a conversation about Olkari crop breeding, Pidge trailed off mid-sentence, eyes caught on something in the crowd. Shiro followed her gaze, unsure of what she was expecting to find.

What she saw was _Keith._

She was breathtaking, striking artwork painted in splashes of red and black. Her dress was a snug bodice with sleeves that looped loosely over her biceps, as if they had been pushed off her shoulders by greedy hands. Keith’s skin showed through cutouts in the black bodice, lavender stripes across pale soft skin. The skirt of her dress was a deep red to match her lips, falling down to her feet in a gentle poof. Her smile was the sun, shining warm on Shiro’s face from across the room.

Shiro’s body remembered how to walk before her brain came back online, boldly weaving through clusters of people, Pidge all but forgotten. When she neared Keith, confident strides started to give way to stuttering steps. The way all of Keith’s sharp lines were wrapped up in silk and soft curves took her breath away.

When Keith was close enough to reach out and touch, Shiro tripped on the trailing hem of her own dress, pitching forward. 

Keith caught her, gripping Shiro’s arms with a sure grip, and held her steady. It was a graceless tumble, but warmth shot through her too brightly for her to be embarrassed. 

“Looks like those dance lessons paid off, huh?” Keith asked in a low, honeyed voice.

Heat bloomed in Shiro’s cheeks as she straightened, stepping back half a step. 

“Looks like I’ll need a few more,” Shiro whispered. Keith’s smile crackled, spreading across her face like a wildfire through dry trees.

“I think I could help you with that,” she replied. With a jolt, Shiro realized Keith’s hands were holding her elbows lightly, and she had returned the grip. Keith’s skin was warm against her fingers, she savored the feeling of it as she pulled them away gently.

After a moment of searching, she located the dance card that had fluttered to the floor during her impressive show of grace a moment before.

Keith laughed, and asked, “You got one of those?”

“Of course I did! I am a proper lady!” Shiro answered, holding the card to her chest in mock outrage. 

Keith hummed, and before Shiro could react, snatched the card from her hands. Shiro grabbed for it but Keith was faster, spinning away to grab a pen from one of the tables positioned artfully around the room. 

“Keith!” Shiro called, fighting unsuccessfully against the giggles that spilled out of her.

Keith leaned over the table for a few moments before turning back to Shiro with a proud look on her face. She handed the card back to Shiro with a smirk. Shiro took it from her slender hands and realized--Keith had written her own name on every single line of Shiro’s dance card.

Keith shrugged and said, “Looks like you’re stuck with me for the night.”

“Looks like it,” Shiro said back, a little dazed.

Their gazes caught and held, and for a few seconds the din of the room around them faded into quiet. Shiro’s heartbeat thundered in her ears and every breath felt loud. She could see a dark blush creeping over Keith’s cheeks, and she knew her own face must look the same.

Breaking their shared look, Keith grabbed Shiro’s hand and pulled her towards the dance floor, muttering, “Come on, then.”

Shiro let herself be pulled, following Keith’s confident, graceful steps. As they neared an open spot on the floor, Allura stepped up to center stage, radiant as ever. Her pale white dress, adorned with pale pink flowers, lovely against the warm brown of her skin, floated around her like a silken cloud, and flashes of silver glinted at her ears and throat. A delicate silver circlet rested atop her braid, simple and elegant like its bearer.

Behind her, not in her shadow so much as a pillar of support, stood Lance. The pale blue and silver of his suit made him glow. He smiled bright at Allura as she stepped farther forward and raised her hands.

“Thank you all for coming!” Allura called out in her lilting voice. The room quieted further, quiet conversations trailing into silence. Allura’s smile beamed out of her, shining on the entire room.

“New Altea is celebrating its’ first birthday. And what a birthday it is!”

Smiles broke out through the room, with light laughter.

“New Altea, and every one of you, have given me hope that I thought I’d lost forever,” Allura continued, voice wavering slightly, “I thought everything had been lost. My people, our culture, our _home._ ”

Allura paused for a moment, looking over the room with shining eyes. 

“But it wasn’t lost. It changed, yes. It grew, it _survived._ ” She looked back at Lance fondly, “It’s been made stronger by every being who has kept it alive. New Altea would not exist without the help of the Paladins of Voltron. Five humans from a small planet that had barely ventured out into their own solar system.”

Allura’s eyes rested on all of the paladins in turn, finding Hunk and Pidge along the edge of the crowd, then Keith and Shiro where they stood on the dance floor. Shiro’s affection for Allura, her pride in everything she’d created, shone in Shiro’s eyes when she returned Allura’s look. Her glance back at Lance was quick, like she was checking to make sure he was still there, right where she needed him to be.

“So today, on our celebration of one wonderful year on this planet, I also want to celebrate those who made it possible--the Paladins of Voltron. Humans of Earth. Our friends, allies, and loved ones,” Allura looked back at Lance again, and Shiro was stunned at the recognition that raced through her at the look in Lance’s eyes.

He looked at Allura like Keith looked at Shiro.

Shiro glanced at Keith through her lashes. Her dark hair was longer than Shiro had ever seen it, falling in loose curls down her back, with small braids and glittering stars throughout. It was a bit wild, just like Keith.

Allura faced the crowd at large again, straightening her shoulders. She looked every part the empress who revived a whole race, who gave them a new home. She wore her leadership like she wore the sparkling crown in her hair--with all of the seriousness it deserved.

“New Altea is not the Altea of old,” Allura said, and a somber silence spread through the room. Allura continued, “New Altea is something more.”

A few Alteans chittered to themselves quietly at her words, and Shiro could see the corner of Allura’s mouth twitch down at the sound.

She continued, “New Altea is all of our love for what we lost. It is our endless hope for what is ahead. And I am so grateful that you are here to build that future alongside me. _All_ of you.” 

Allura’s last words were pointed and firm. The Alteans who had been having side conversations all quieted, at her words and at the look Allura fixed them with. When Shiro looked back at Keith, the smile on her best friend’s face was wicked and sharp. Shiro knew her own must be the same--it was incredibly satisfying to watch Allura face down her dissenters.

Allura beamed around the room, stepping back and ushering in musicians. Alteans in matching dark blue suits spread across the stage and began to play. Shiro didn’t recognize all of the instruments, but as the music washed over the room, she recognized the tempo.

She turned to Keith with a soft smile and held out her hand. “Shall we dance?” she asked.

Keith grinned back at her and nodded, taking Shiro’s hand in her own and pulling her close. Their skirts swished together as they stepped in small, slow circles. Something settled deep within Shiro, like a puzzle piece snapping into place in her chest. Somehow, unlike their previous attempts, her movements were easy and gentle.

Keith noticed the change too, looking up at Shiro with wide eyes. Shiro shrugged and savored the sound of Keith’s low laugh. As they spun, the room around them blurred and faded. It was as if they stepped through an empty room, moving together in perfect harmony.

Shiro recalled an old Earth movie she had watched with the paladins, about a star who had fallen to Earth and become human; the star shone whenever she was happy, especially when she was in love. 

Watching Keith glow as they moved through the room together, Shiro thought maybe Keith was a fallen star, shining in love and joy.

“You look beautiful,” Shiro murmured quietly. A dark blush spread across Keith’s cheeks, but she didn’t look away from Shiro. Her gaze was, as always, direct.

“So do you,” Keith answered. Shiro couldn’t stop a giggle from bubbling out of her, surprising her with its lightness. 

As the song faded out into quiet, they came to a stop. Shiro felt like her world was still spinning around the two of them. Keith pulled Shiro to the side of the room, grabbing two more flutes of bubbling drinks, before leading her through a side door. 

The door opened onto a small balcony, looking over the city. The streets below were alight with life and energy, dark green ocean glittering beyond. They stood shoulder to shoulder, looking out across the night in a comfortable silence. Shiro sipped her drink quickly, savoring the warmth that spread through her from the alcohol. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, Shiro blurted, “I think I’m going to leave the Garrison.”

There. She said it. A thought that had crossed her mind a thousand times, finally put out into the universe. Spoken to her best friend.

Keith looked at her from under her lashes, but waited for Shiro to continue.

“I feel like I’m wasting my life there. Growing up, and even during the war, I never thought about what life would be _after._ Truthfully, I… didn’t think I’d get an ‘after.’”

Keith inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. Shiro knew it was an effort for Keith to stay quiet. Keith had never been able to handle Shiro talking about dying. 

Shiro hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath. She continued, “The more I think about it, the more I realize Earth doesn’t feel like home to me anymore. It hasn’t for a long time.”

Keith did speak then, looking up at Shiro with earnest eyes and whispering, “Then where is your home?”

Shiro returned Keith’s gaze, wrapping her fingers around Keith’s where they gripped the balcony. She answered, “When I think of home, I don’t picture a place anymore. I think of you.”

Keith sucked in another sharp breath, eyes shining. They moved closer, caught inescapably in each other's orbits, until Shiro could make out each tiny fleck of color in Keith’s eyes. Keith’s breath was warm against her lips, and it was the easiest thing, the rightest thing Shiro had ever done, to dip and press her lips to Keith’s.

The kiss was sweet, Keith’s lips soft and warm against Shiro’s, and she sighed into it. Drinks forgotten, Shiro pushed her fingers slowly into Keith’s hair, holding her reverently. Kissing Keith was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Shiro felt aware of every place they touched, Keith’s body soft and strong and warm.

When they broke apart, it was with a soft laugh, and smiles so wide Shiro’s cheeks began to ache. She kissed Keith again, and again, delighting in the knowledge that she _could._

Shiro rested her forehead against Keith’s, breathing deeply and reveling in the feel of Keith’s arms wrapped tight around her.

“I love you,” Shiro breathed, barely more than a whisper.

“I love you,” Keith answered.

Wrapping arms around each other, they stayed out on the balcony, in their own quiet bubble of love and contentment, as long as possible. After a few more songs passed, Shiro remembered her promise to Allura and convinced Keith to dance with her a few more times.

Keith twined her fingers through Shiro’s as they walked back inside, squeezing tight and glowing in her joy. The first person Shiro saw was Allura, head thrown back in a laugh, arm wrapped through Lance’s. Allura caught sight of them right away, taking in their held hands, slightly smudged lipsticks and bright smiles, and grinned knowingly. Shiro blushed hotly, but when she looked at Keith, she was surprised to not see a matching brush of lavender across her cheekbones. Keith seemed to stand a little straighter, unashamed in her love. 

The other paladins responded in kind, and Shiro thought she saw Pidge begrudgingly hand Hunk money in defeat, but Shiro couldn’t keep her eyes away from Keith for long. 

Keith led her onto the dance floor, wrapping Shiro in her arms and spinning her around the room. Keith’s movements were graceful as ever, and Shiro followed her lead, perfectly in sync as they danced late into the night.


	2. When the music stops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party ends, but Keith and Shiro's night continues... in Shiro's quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of Take the Lead--you don't necessarily need to read the first chapter to understand what's going on in this one, but I'd be delighted if you did <3
> 
> Huge thank you to the W&G server for important tiddy discourse, and for cheerleading <3

The walk back to Shiro’s quarters on ATLAS is rife with energy. Excitement and nerves thrum under her skin, hyperaware of every brush of Keith’s. They don’t talk about where they’re going, it sits known and unspoken between them. 

At every opportunity, Keith pulls her into corners or alcoves, pressing Shiro’s body into the wall with her own. She drives Shiro crazy with her kisses, drawing low moans from her mouth. Keith’s lipstick is smudged, dark red stains leaking from the edges of her lips, and Shiro knows there must be matching red marks along her neck. She’s not sure exactly _where_ Keith learned to kiss like that, but she’s not in any kind of place to question it. 

The night has a surreal edge to it, sparkling at the edges, like Shiro might just wake up any moment, flushed and sweaty with the heat of her longing. But no, this is real. _Keith_ is real, solid and strong under her hands, breathing against her skin. They danced until they were both breathless, having slipped their shoes off hours before stopping. It wasn’t until the ballroom had cleared out significantly that something had changed, and Keith was pulling Shiro down the halls with a new sense of urgency. They left Allura and Lance in the middle of the room, still swaying slowly to music only the two of them could hear, while Coran snored loudly, probably aided by a healthy amount of Nunvill, on a soft couch against one side of the room. 

Finally, they reach the door to Shiro’s quarters, and it takes her a few tries before she can press her hand fully to the scanner, opening the doors with a quiet whoosh. Keith stumbles backwards into the room, dragging Shiro with her. Keith’s lips pillow against hers, soft and perfect, and she licks into Shiro’s mouth with deliberate intent. Shiro’s burning up, fire dancing under her skin with every touch. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Keith murmurs, reaching her arms up to dig her nails against Shiro’s scalp at the base of her neck, pulling through her hair, and Shiro practically whimpers. 

“Look who’s talking,” Shiro replies against her mouth, stumbling as she moves with Keith towards her bed, tripping over both of their hems. The back of Keith’s legs hit the edge of the bed and she almost falls back onto it. Shiro catches her with arms wrapped around her waist, and when they finally part for air, their breath mingles. Keith looks as dazed as Shiro feels, eyes unfocused and devastating. Her lashes flutter like dark butterflies against the pale skin of her cheeks.

“Hi,” Shiro says, brushing an errant hair from Keith’s face, where it’s stuck to her lip. She can’t fight the smile that spreads across her lips, giddy and a little disbelieving. 

“Hi yourself,” Keith’s answering smile is like sunlight, and Shiro basks in its warmth. Steadying herself, Shiro takes a grounding breath, squeezing Keith’s waist lightly where her hands rest. The chiffon material of Keith’s dress is surprisingly soft, but Shiro can’t help wishing she was touching skin instead.

“Maybe we should… talk about this?”

“About what?” Keith asks, confusion filtering into her eyes.

“About, you know…” Shiro trails off, taking a half step back to gesture between them. When Keith just eyes her incredulously, Shiro huffs. She’s never been great at talking about physical intimacy, but it feels important to know they’re on the same page. More important than its ever felt. 

“About… sex?” Keith says with a light laugh. There’s something dancing in her indigo eyes, playful and teasing. Shiro nods, gulping, and she laughs louder.

“Shiro, listen,” Keith’s eyes bore into Shiro’s as she speaks, trapping her in the moment, “We can do whatever we both want to do. I’m not going to ask for anything but what you want to give me, but I promise you I’ve been thinking about fucking you for a _long_ time. So if you’re interested, I’d really like to take that dress off of you, and do exactly that.” 

_Oh._

Shiro’s breath leaves her in a whoosh, and she hears a low keening noise. It takes a moment to realize it came from her, thick with the desire that coiled in her belly the moment she saw Keith in that dress.

“You’ve thought about this?” Shiro asks, and Keith nods.

“Definitely,” Keith says, fiddling with the edge of Shiro’s cape, “Have you?” 

“God, yes,” Shiro’s mouth is back on Keith’s before the words have fully left it, and her arms snake back around Keith’s lean frame, one hand buried in her thick hair. Keith winds her arms around Shiro’s neck with an iron grip, and her mouth leaves Shiro’s lips to leave sloppy kisses across her jaw, to her ear. Keith takes the lobe of Shiro’s ear between her teeth and bites gently, harder when Shiro gasps. Keith switches angles then recoils quickly, one hand slapped over her cheek.

“Ow! What the hell!” Shiro pulls Keith’s hand away and finds a pale pink mark on her cheekbone, not bleeding but scratched hard enough to raise her skin slightly.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks, and she’s able to relax a little when Keith nods.

“You’re pokey,” Keith says, gesturing at Shiro’s head. It’s only then that she remembers that she’s still wearing the hair decoration Allura had gifted her, golden metal protruding from her head at all angles. She moves to take it off but Keith’s hand on her own arrests her movement.

“Let me,” Keith says, leading Shiro to the edge of the bed and gently pushing her down until Shiro’s seated. Keith works carefully but quickly, pulling the comb and the other pins and decor that Allura had put in her hair and dropping them to her bedside table with small clatters. Next, she gently removes Shiro’s earrings, letting her fingertips graze the skin on Shiro’s neck as she goes. Shiro shivers at the contact, wanting more, and the gleam in Keith’s eyes tells her that she knows exactly what she’s doing to Shiro. 

Her necklace is next, Keith leans down to reach the clasp at the back of her neck, bringing Keith’s chest close enough for Shiro to dart forward and leave lipstick marks of her own over Keith’s collarbone. Keith sighs into the contact, going boneless. Shiro takes the opportunity to pull Keith to the bed next to her. She unfastens Keith’s earrings then, tracing the curves and edges of her ear with a curious, reverent finger, before gesturing for Keith to turn.

Shiro pulls Keith’s hair to one side, over her shoulder, revealing the clasp of the necklace Shiro bought her just a few days ago. The silver shines delicately against Keith’s skin, but Shiro doesn’t take it off just yet. Instead she leans forward, breathing Keith in. She smells incredible, with the warm spice of cloves and something sweet and cloying. Keith whimpers quietly, so quietly Shiro may not have heard her from any farther away, at the way Shiro’s breath skitters over her skin. 

Shiro takes her time, laying open mouthed kisses against Keith’s neck, spurred on by every noise she pulls from her. She sucks a mark into the skin just below her ear, sliding her hands around Keith to pull her back against her body. Keith’s hands come to rest over Shiro’s, nails digging into Shiro’s skin with every new tug of her mouth.

Shiro feels suspended in time, like she could sit like this and tease Keith forever, but soon impatience takes over. She wants this dress _off,_ if she has to rip it off with her own hands. Keith looks dangerously good in it, but Shiro can just buy her a new dress, she thinks. 

Shiro pulls back, finally unclasping the necklace and setting it down with her own trinkets. There’s a fine metal chain, sparkling with gemstones, threaded through Keith’s hair. She sets to taking it out, but she’s not entirely sure how it works, and a moment later it’s hopelessly tangled in Keith’s hair. The steaminess of the moment melts away in the face of Shiro’s struggle, and before too long, Keith’s hands join the fray, but to no avail. The poor attempts at detangling soon devolve into helpless giggling, and Shiro gives up, resting her forehead on Keith’s shoulder and sighing dramatically. 

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly into Keith’s skin, but the other woman shakes her head.

“It’s okay, it’s a ridiculous thing anyway. I probably should have known better than to wear it,” Keith says with a residual chuckle.

“No, I’m glad you wore it. It looked beautiful on you,” Shiro says, running a hand up and down Keith’s waist, “So does this dress.” Shiro’s fingers drift until they find the zipper at the back of Keith’s dress, pulling it down with unbearable slowness. Keith’s breath hitches, and she trembles just a little in Shiro’s arms. 

“But honestly, everything looks good on you,” Shiro continues, following the zipper’s path with her fingertips, “ _Ugh,_ don’t even get me started on your Blades uniform.”

“Yeah?” Keith’s voice is barely audible over the slow click of the zipper teeth.

“God, yes. That thing leaves nothing to the imagination. Honestly it makes me a little jealous thinking about every being that’s had the privilege to see you in it.”

The zipper hits its lowermost point with a click, and Shiro pulls the fabric apart, easing it from Keith’s shoulders. She kisses the skin she bares, leaving barely visible lipstick stains along Keith’s back. The material falls from Keith’s skin with a whisper, pooling at her waist. 

Shiro’s seen Keith in various states of undress, that’s something that comes with friendship. But seeing her in her sweaty undershirt after a mission, or clothes sliced through and soaked in blood aren’t the same thing as this. This is an entirely new realm, one that Shiro’s somehow more nervous about. Scars form constellations across Keith’s skin, souvenirs of battles won. The skin is ridged and textured under Shiro’s touch, and Keith shivers when her fingers dance down the length of her spine. 

Abruptly, Keith gets to her feet. She doesn’t turn back to face Shiro, not yet, simply shimmies out of her dress, laying it over the chair at Shiro’s desk, and turns to face Shiro. Shiro’s heart thumps in her throat at the sight. Keith’s hair falls in wild curls down her shoulders, ends curling just above her nipples, hardened against the chill of the air. A lace garter belt hugs her waist, connecting to ribboned garters, holding up sheer black stockings. Beneath them, a scrap of black fabric covers the apex of her thighs. She’s a goddamn vision, and Shiro’s mouth goes dry as she strides back to where Shiro sits. Keit’s legs are impossibly long, pale skin accented by the lacy black fabric. Shiro wants to dig her hands and her teeth into them, feel the hard muscles under her velvety skin.

Keith pulls Shiro to her feet, and Shiro can’t help herself, she puts her hands on Keith’s waist, running them up her sides with soft touches. She avoids her chest, running feather light fingers over her shoulders and collarbones, down the length of her arms, over the flat plane of her belly. Keith shivers at the touch, cheeks blooming lavender at the attention. Before too long, she’s kneeling before Shiro, wicked intent dancing in her eyes as she reaches for the hem of Shiro’s dress.

Torturously slowly, Keith works the hem up. As she goes she touches every bit of Shiro that she can see. Molds her hands to the curve of Shiro’s calves, tickles the backs of her knees. Keith lays kisses on the exposed skin, and Shiro’s shaking apart. She’s never been touched with such worshipful attention, never expected that a soft kiss pressed to the inside of her knee would steal the breath from her lungs. 

Keith gathers the pooled fabric at her thighs, fingers ghosting along the tops of them, so close and yet so far from where Shiro’s aching for them. She stops thinking altogether when Keith’s breath warms her skin, warms the fabric of her underwear before she presses a kiss to the skin just above it. Shiro’s stomach muscles clench in response, twitching, and it spurs Keith on. She presses open mouthed kisses all over Shiro’s stomach, tongue hot and wet as she tastes Shiro’s skin. Keith follows the path of every scar she sees, giving them each single-minded attention while her hands knead against her back. 

Shiro sways, reaching out blindly for Keith, for some way to keep herself upright and grounded in this moment, before she floats away. Her fingers find Keith’s hair and bury in it, gripping harder than she really meant to. At the tight pull of her grip, Keith moans low against the skin of Shiro’s ribcage. _Oh._ Shiro grips tight again, pulling at Keith’s hair without pulling her incredible mouth from her skin.

Keith gets the fabric to Shiro’s chest, hands pressing with deliberation over the material of her bra. Keith’s mouth follows, biting gently into the fabric and the tender flesh below. Somehow she finds Shiro’s nipple through the fabric, teeth closing over it with enough pressure to make Shiro gasp, pulling Keith’s face hard against her. She’s forced to untangle her fingers from Keith’s hair when her own dress reaches her armpits, she raises her arms so Keith can pull the dress entirely from her body. 

Shiro feels impatience racing through her as Keith treats her dress with equal care, folding it gently over the back of her chair before returning. When she’s within Shiro’s reach, Shiro pulls them both to the bed, covering Keith’s body with her own and kissing her soundly. The softness of Keith’s skin against her own draws a groan from Shiro’s lips, absorbed by Keith’s. Shiro presses a thigh between Keith’s, and Keith arches against it. Shiro can feel the strength of Keith, her muscles taut through her body, and it’s everything she’s always imagined when sparring and more. 

Shiro licks into Keith’s mouth, fingers sliding under Keith’s belt to tease the skin beneath, pulling the lace from her skin just to snap it back. Keith swats at her shoulder at that, muttering, “Brat.” 

Shiro chuckles, nosing along Keith’s cheek until she reaches her neck, admiring the dark smudges of the marks she left earlier. Keith is writhing in her arms, pulling at Shiro’s hair and grinding into her thigh. Shiro grips Keith’s hip hard, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises, encouraging Keith to ride the muscle of her thigh. The sounds Keith makes, the little whimpers as Shiro nips at the meat of her shoulder, are driving Shiro crazy. 

“God, baby, you sound so good,” Shiro says against the skin of Keith’s collarbone. The words, or maybe the pet name, draw a broken moan from Keith. Shiro leans back just a little bit to get a look at Keith, and what she sees is devastating. Keith’s eyes are unfocused, and her mouth is slack, she looks blissed out. her hair is spread across the pillows like a dark halo, and her skin is practically glowing against the dark gray of Shiro’s sheets. 

“And as sexy as you look in this,” Shiro continues, snapping the lace of Keith’s garter belt again, “I think it needs to come off.”

Keith nods, gaze sharpening on Shiro as she sits up, kneeling between Keith’s thighs. She trails fingers down Keith’s torso, teasing the hard peak of her nipples and relishing the way Keith’s breath hitches in her chest at the touch. Diverting from her mission to get Keith naked, Shiro takes Keith’s pert breasts in her hands, squeezing softly and reveling in the weight of them. They’re a perfect handful, dusky brown nipples hardening further at the brush of Shiro’s thumbs. She traces circles around and over them, making Keith whine and roll her hips up, seeking some kind of relief from Shiro’s teasing. Tutting quietly, Shiro leans forward to take one of Keith’s nipples into her mouth, sucking and biting at it while her hands continue their journey. 

Keith’s fingers grab at Shiro’s shoulders, nails digging scores into her skin, and Shiro hisses at the sting. She hopes the scratches leave marks, souvenirs of Keith’s pleasure. Shiro has to pull away to really get at Keith’s belt, sliding it down Keith’s hips slowly, sliding broad hands under her to palm at her ass briefly over her underwear. She had never figured Keith for a lace girl, but now that she’s seen it, Shiro is pretty sure she’ll never get the image out of her head. Maybe Keith has more, Shiro hopes she’ll get to see whatever collection she has, maybe add to it. 

Shiro works the stockings down Keith’s thighs slowly, savoring the way the muscles there jump and twitch under her touch. She palms at Keith’s calves, fingers tracing the edge of her muscle, tickling the sensitive skin of her ankle. Lifting Keith’s feet to pull the belt and stockings off, Shiro catches them in her hands and holds them aloft, leaning down to press a kiss to each ankle. She moves back up, retracing her steps with her mouth this time, eyes sharp on Keith’s face to catch every expression. A tiny laugh escapes Keith when Shiro bites at her thigh just above her knee, almost jerking away because it tickles. The laugh bleeds into a moan as Shiro keeps working her way up with tongue and teeth.

Shiro can see the curves and ridges of Keith’s cunt through the fabric of her underwear, and she barely stops herself from pulling them to the side to taste her. Instead she teases, sucking marks into her thighs, biting until Keith cries out and buries her fingers in Shiro’s hair once more. Keith twines her fingers in her hair, trying to guide her head where she wants it, but Shiro tuts, pulling back.

“Something you want, love?” she asks, meeting Keith’s desperate gaze with a playful one of her own. Her head rests against Keith’s thigh while she pets over Keith’s stomach, dragging her fingers achingly close before she pulls them away. 

“Shirooo,” Keith moans, tugging on Shiro’s hair again, “Please.” 

“Please what?” Shiro’s reply is innocent, but she punctuates it with a bite to Keith’s hip. Keith’s hips surge up, seeking the contact Shiro’s been denying her. Chuckling, keeping a close eye on Keith’s face, Shiro moves closer, licking at the juncture of her thigh, then blowing over the wet skin. Keith writhes harder against the sheets, whimpering. Heat pools in Shiro’s gut at the sounds Keith makes, desperate and _wanting,_ and all for Shiro.

She hovers over her cunt, breathing warm into the fabric of Keith’s underwear. Shiro has to hold Keith down, fingers digging into her hips with bruising strength, to keep her from thrusting up and mashing herself against Shiro’s lips. Shiro tuts again, winking at Keith, though she’s not sure she’s aware enough to notice, before she licks a long stripe against the fabric. Keith keens, voice breaking as Shiro bites at her gently, taking little mouthfuls of skin and fabric and nerves between her teeth. She knows she’s being the worst kind of tease, and she’s torturing the both of them, but it’s going to be worth it.

“Please, please, please,” Keith repeats, over and over like a mantra, or maybe a prayer. 

Shiro rears back, yanking Keith’s underwear off in a rush. She teased the both of them to their breaking point, and she’s done waiting. Settling back between Keith’s thighs, she doesn’t bother to tease more, diving right in to taste her. Keith’s drenched, already messy, and with the first swipe of Shiro’s tongue she’s arching, squeezing her thighs against Shiro’s head. Shiro swirls her tongue around Keith’s clit in maddening circles before closing her lips around it and sucking hard, making Keith cry out. 

Once she’s tasted Keith enough to take the edge of her need off, though she doubts it will ever be enough to sate it completely, she slows. She licks Keith’s folds gently, manipulating them with her tongue while Keith groans. Keith’s fingers tighten in her hair and she surges up… and just like that Shiro is flat on her back, Keith kneeling above her.

“Oh so it’s like that, is it?” Shiro asks, pushing up against Keit’s thighs as if to push her off. She’s just testing, but Keith isn’t having it. She settles her weight against Shiro, fist still tightly wrapped in her hair. 

“Mmhm,” Keith says, “No more teasing me, Shirogane.” Shiro thinks she’s trying for a playful tone, but her voice is still tinged with desperation. Her mouth forms the word ‘please’ but no sound leaves her lip, just a quiet whine. 

“Okay baby,” Shiro says, hands urging Keith to sit down lower against her mouth, “Shh, I’ve got you.” Keith sighs into the lapping of Shiro’s tongue, legs going boneless with pleasure. The sight of Keith above her, riding her face, eyes drifting shut, sends another pulse of heat through Shiro. Shiro’s sopping wet, aching for Keith’s touch, but she’s exactly where she needs to be. Shiro doesn’t hold back, licking and sucking at Keith’s clit at regular intervals while her fingers dig into the meat of her thighs. 

Keith’s trembling apart in her arms, thrusting her hips against Shiro’s face with shaky, graceless movements. Shiro wants to take her apart, over and over again, until all she knows is pleasure. But, she supposes, there’s plenty of time for that. One of her hands drifts, fingertips grazing along the cleft of her ass and down, until they’re teasing at her hole. Keith whimpers as one of Shiro’s fingers slides inside easily. Shiro groans too, thrusting her finger in time with the flicking of her tongue. 

After a minute she adds a second finger, low moan mingling with Keith’s fevered cries. Keith has taken the reins now, fucking down onto Shiro’s fingers with a relentless pace. Her fingers pull Shiro’s mouth back to her, racing towards her peak. Shiro lets Keith drive, letting herself be used, murmuring words of encouragement and praise against Keith’s skin as she moves, urging her to keep going. Keith’s hips falter, jerking against Shiro’s mouth and fingers, and Shiro takes the chance to slip a third finger into her, curling them into her hot heat. Keith stutters further, panting and moaning Shiro’s name.

“That’s it baby,” Shiro urges, fucking her fingers into Keith, twisting and rubbing them against the perfect spot to take her apart, “Come for me.” Keith comes with a low cry, spilling even more wetness against Shiro’s hand, clenching around her fingers. Shiro guides her through it, licking at her clit gently as it twitches, murmuring a litany of nonsense and sweet things. Keith’s fingers relax finally, running through Shiro’s hair with heartbreaking tenderness, and she breathes heavily with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Shiro withdraws her fingers slowly, gently, but Keith still whimpers quietly at the loss.

Keith slides down Shiro’s body until she can collapse against her, nuzzling into Shiro’s neck. Keith’s hand comes up to palm at Shiro’s chest but she finds fabric instead of skin. Shiro had gotten so carried away, she forgot to take her own bra and underwear off. Keith plucks at the bra, making small pouting noises until Shiro sighs, wriggling out of the material as best she can without disturbing Keith’s weight against her. She thinks maybe Keith will rest, maybe she’ll pass out in Shiro’s arms, so she settles in, wrapping her arms around her brilliant, gorgeous woman. 

Shiro realizes her chin is still sticky with Keith’s slick and her own spit, and moves to wipe away what she can with the back of her hand, but Keith stops her. She presses a kiss to the corner of Shiro’s lips, then moves lower, cleaning Shiro’s skin with tiny, kitten licks. After her chin she takes hold of Shiro’s hand, sucking fingers into her mouth one by one. She swirls her tongue around them expertly, fanning the flames that had dulled to embers in Shiro. She aches again, aches for the touch and taste of Keith, and she wonders if it’s an ache that will ever be truly sated. 

Once Shiro’s fingers are clean, Keith nuzzles back into her hair. Shiro tries to relax into the oncoming cuddling, but Keith instead licks a long stripe up her neck to her ear, before whispering, “Your turn, Shirogane.” 

“Oh,” is all Shiro can say before Keith’s fingers are at her tit, teasing her nipple into hardness and tracing soft circles around it. Her fingers are like magic, dragging against the skin of Shiro’s collarbone, her chest, and down her stomach. They map the edges of every scar while Keith bites at the joining of her neck and shoulder, digging into the tender muscle. 

Shiro’s breath hitches and comes in unsteady pants as she tries to be patient, waiting to Keith to touch her how she’s been craving all night. For years, if she’s honest. Shiro’s lost count of how many times Keith’s face has been painted against the back of her eyelids while she comes alone in her bed. How many times she’s need an extra long, hot shower to take the edge off after a sparring session. It never erases the memory of Keith’s long legs wrapped around her, or the way their grappling bodies slide together, but it was enough to get by. Until now, at least. 

Keith doesn’t bother teasing her, sliding nimble fingers under the hem of her underwear and tracing her folds. She’s messy and wet, all the evidence of her insane need that only grew and grew while she brought Keith pleasure. Keith groans low when she discovers the feel of her, the heat and damp.

“God, you’re so wet,” Keith whispers against her earlobe, tongue flicking out to taste and tease, “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re drenched.”

Shiro squeezes her eyes shut against the words and the way they set her nerves on fire, blazing to life. Her hips twitch uncontrollably, seeking more pressure. Keith on the other hand, is delighted by the way Shiro reacts.

“You like that, baby?” Keith asks, though she knows the answer, “You like hearing about how dripping wet you are for me? Yeah, I bet you liked me riding your face too, and coming all over it.”

Shiro just nods, unable to speak. Keith’s finger dips between her folds, playing in her slick before moving up to brush over her clit, sending sparks through Shiro’s whole body. Her lips part on a breathy moan, and Keith does it again. Then she rubs two fingers over her, in maddeningly slow circles, pushing Shiro higher and higher towards her orgasm. She can feel it approach, knows she’s going to come embarrassingly quickly, but she has no brain cells left to care with. She writhes and shifts her hips against Keith’s touch, chasing the pleasure, and Keith doesn’t bother denying her. 

She slides her fingers faster and faster, until Shiro is shuddering and pleading and babbling nonsense to the ceiling. Then, just as Shiro nears the edge, Keith shifts, sliding two fingers inside her while her thumb maintains the tiny circles against her clit. Shiro breaks then, coming so hard that everything goes white. She arches against the bed, almost launching off of it with the force of her pleasure and the way all of her muscles clench, but Keith keeps her grounded, pinned to the bed with her weight. She murmurs soothing noises against Shiro’s earlobe as she comes down, floating blissfully. 

Then, Keith does snuggle her, tangling one of her leg into Shiro’s and settling against her shoulders. It takes a few minutes for Shiro’s breathing to become something lighter than panting, and longer still for her to remember how to speak. She’s had plenty of orgasms in her life, had a few partners who were pretty good in bed, but this was _different_. Keith brings her body to life, awakening every nerve ending and cell along her skin, and not just that.

“So that was…” Keith trails off. 

“Yeah,” Shiro answers. And just like that they’re laughing, bodies shaking with the force of their giggling. Laughter dissipates into contented sighs, and finally Shiro’s eyes grow heavy. She lets Keith pull the blankets up over them, settling in with her face pressed to Shiro’s chest, limbs tangled together. The excitement that was thrumming through her veins is something new now, a sweet, contented warmth. Shiro doesn’t remember falling asleep.

-

Shiro wakes a few hours later, as the sunlight from New Altea’s twin suns filters through the windows. The golden light is warm against her skin, and so is the skin of the woman pressed against her. Shiro turns slowly, shifting inch by inch in an attempt not to wake Keith, but it doesn’t matter. Keith’s violet eyes are open and watching her, soft with sleep and an aching tenderness. 

“Good morning,” Shiro says softly, delighting in the way Keith’s cheek flush a soft lilac at her words.

They lay facing each other, just like that, as the suns move through the sky, dappled light sliding over their bodies slowly. Shiro can’t help but think of how _unfair_ it is, that Keith should look like a wreck, and she doesn’t. There are traces of deep red lipstick in the corners of her mouth, and fading smudges of it on her chin. The glitter of her eyeshadow is all over her face, sparkling with sunlight, and there’s deep black makeup smudged all around her eyes. And yet somehow, she’s still devastatingly beautiful.

Shiro sighs, tracing the features of Keith’s face reverently, with just a fingertip. She brushes is along the fullness of her lower lip, the sharp cut of her jaw, the arch of her eyebrow. Shiro maps out every detail of Keith’s face, as if she could ever forget a single thing. Keith’s eyes flutter closed, lips curling into a soft, delicate smile. Shiro brushes an errant hair back and out of Keith’s face, taking a moment to run her fingers through Keith’s hair. She indulges, letting herself savor the silky texture of Keith’s hair, the way her curls spring back into place when Shiro tugs on one of them gently. 

“I love your hair,” Shiro whispers absentmindedly. Keith opens one eye to squint at her, sticking out her tongue. Shiro leans forward to press her face to Keith’s, tasting the quiet laugh that Keith sighs into the kiss. Shiro can’t remember feeling so incandescently happy or at peace. Looking back, she can’t understand how she ever made it through her life without this feeling. 

“You should wear it down more often,” Shiro says when she pulls back, still playing with Keith’s hair. Her fingers find a large snarl, a tangle of hair and metal, and she remembers the delicate chain she hadn’t been able to get out last night, “Or maybe not.” 

It’s Keith’s turn to sigh heavily, leaning her forehead down against Shiro’s collarbone. 

“This is why I braid it,” Keith mutters, nuzzling into Shiro’s skin. It’s an innocent touch, but heat pools in Shiro at the heat of Keith’s breath. She knows that she should drag herself out of bed, and take a shower, maybe make them both some breakfast.

“Hmm, but when you braid it,” Shiro murmurs, wriggling her fingers deeper into Keith’s hair, until she has a solid grip, “I can’t do _this.”_

Shiro _pulls,_ not too hard, just enough to make Keith moan, and expose the long line of her throat to Shiro’s onslaught of kisses. She rolls Keith beneath her, pressing her into the mattress with a delighted laugh. Breakfast will have to wait.


End file.
